


Hexes For Exes

by Sunshinecackle



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Drama, Drug Use, F slur, Frotting, Gay, Gore, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pre-Canon, Q slur, Slash, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Unrequited Love, Violence, Voyeurism, Yaoi, dub-con, mentions of animal abuse, more to come - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-12-26 12:29:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12059022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshinecackle/pseuds/Sunshinecackle
Summary: Vic Criss knew that letting Henry know of his crush would bring nothing but pain. What he didn’t expect was exactly why it would.





	1. From The Sad Things And The Bad Things

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! I saw It yesterday with my boyfriend, and then this popped up. I couldn’t stop myself from writing something, especially while listening to the Hexes For Exes album by Moving Units. It just really made me feel like I should write something. I suppose this is a little bit of a songfic, as in it’s inspired by the songs from the album, but it isn’t inherently like other songfics I’ve seen. I hope you guys enjoy, I know I will!

The grey morning fog had given way to a grey, rainy day that seemed to drag on forever. 

Vic sighed, leaning his head against the cold window, his hair pressed to his forehead. It was just him and Henry today, in his bedroom, listening to Metallica and losing themselves in the lyrics. Well, that’s what he suspected Henry was doing. His own mind was preoccupied in the way that nothing could draw him out of it. Brown eyes followed the stream of water gushing through the gutter outside, and a sigh left his parted lips. It must have caught Henry’s attention, because he looked up from where his hands were tapping to the beat on Vic’s guitar, knocking back some of his hair with a shake of his head.

“What’s up with you?”

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Vic turned slightly in his window seat and shrugged a little, the edge of his sweater drooping to expose his shoulder.

“Just thinking.” He responded vaguely, gesturing to nothing in particular, “It’s a dangerous thing, sometimes.”

“Dangerous? I guess.” Henry replied, back to tapping to the beat of the song as he closed his eyes, “It’s dangerous for some people. You just gotta think about smaller stuff.”

It was hard to try and talk to Henry about this. He’d brought it up to Patrick, knowing the kid was deranged, but also not afraid to explore parts of himself that the world saw as taboo. Of course, he had expected it to turn pear shaped, and it had. Patrick had laughed and offered him head, saying it didn’t matter either way. It wasn’t like Henry was going to be receptive. 

Still, the idea of thinking ‘smaller’ was out of the question. If he had a small mind, he would beat himself up over this even more. He liked to think that the heart wanted what it wanted, despite the brain’s protests. Vic was just glad he was still Henry’s best friend, even if it was unbearable on occasion.

“I suppose that would be better, wouldn’t it?” If only it would work. Vic’s silence had given Henry enough time to fall back on his own big thoughts, and he glanced over to focus on the present, and his friend. Otherwise he was prone to get angry, and he could sense the mood enough to know that wasn’t necessary right now.

“Thinking small’s the only reason this town isn’t on fire.” He finally admitted, shrugging a little. Vic knew Henry suffered at the hands of his father, and he wanted so badly to kiss his wounds away. Thankfully, he knew better than to voice such an opinion. Hell, he knew better than to have this crush, but apparently that didn’t mean much to his heart. Seeing Henry’s eyes on him, he unfolded from his seat and moved to sit beside him at the foot of his bed. Back to it, he brought up one knee to rest his arm on, his other hand dangerously close to his friend’s thigh. He could be happy in moments like this, in pretending that maybe he had a chance.

“Yeah, I know.” Vic replied, smiling a little at his friend, “I’m glad you can think small sometimes. I’d rather not burn alive while I sleep.”

“I wouldn’t burn you, idiot.” Henry replied, “You and me, Vic. We could take on this whole town.” Nevermind the rest of their friends. Everyone knew that Vic was Henry’s foil; the one that thought through their exploits a bit more, the one that helped him finish plans he couldn’t fathom. Vic was the group’s second head, and the one that could keep Henry’s head on his shoulders and out of his ass. At least, most of the time. 

“Yeah, Henry. You and me, forever, against everything.” Part of Vic wanted to grab the other’s hand, to kiss it and promise he’d give his life for the young man beside him. However, the bigger part of him managed to stay still, and he closed his eyes, imagining the warmth of his friend’s hand. Henry tapped out the final note of the song and flourished with a grand sweep of his arm, the air from it drawing Vic back to the present. 

“You ever think of getting out of this town?” Henry asked quietly, glancing at his friend just as the pause of the music erupted into the next song’s notes.

“I do.” Vic replied easily, shrugging one shoulder and watching his sweater slip down a bit more. “A lot of the time. This town’s too small.”

“It is.” Nodding, the other male leaned back a bit more, slumping so that his knees were up and his back was on the carpet, “We should do it together. Just… Leave. We could pack up my car and just drive.” 

There was something in that sentence that made Vic’s heart jump in his chest, and he looked away pointedly to keep his rosy cheeks from being obvious.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” After that admission, the two fell into a companionable silence, only broken by the sound of the guitar’s neck being prodded at. 

“We should go to Hollywood.” Henry finally broke the silence, looking at the ceiling, now. Vic had managed to get control of his blush, turning to look at the other before his eyes followed the other’s to the ceiling.

“To be discovered?” He asked, curious.

“To fade with everyone else there. We could be whatever we wanted to be there. No dads to tell us we were wrong, or that we were stupid or…” Trailing off with a frown, he strummed the electric guitar a bit more viciously and Vic wanted to grab his hand to keep him from snapping strings.

“Whatever we wanted to be, huh?” Maybe the mood was getting to him, his admission of feelings right on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he moved up onto his knees, the other’s name dropping from his lips. When he lifted his head and turned to face him, Henry was shocked to feel lips on his. For what felt like an eternity, he didn’t move, stock still and eyes wide as Vic kissed him. It only took a second once he had control of his arms again to deck his best friend in the cheek and send him sprawling to the floor.

“What the fuck, Vic?!” He questioned, on his feet, guitar forgotten on the floor, “You some kind of queer?” 

The blond rubbed his cheek, staring up at Henry, who absently touched his lips. Why did it feel all tingly? Not having the answers only made him even more enraged, and he started for the door.

“Henry, wait--” Vic was on his feet in record time, grabbing the other’s arm, “I’m sorry, I-- I don’t know what came over me.”

“Obviously you’re fucking disgusting.” Henry spat, the words going straight to Vic’s heart. “Just fuck off, give me space.” Wrenching his arm away from the other, he righted his shirt and grabbed his jacket off the desk chair by the door. 

“I-- O-okay, Henry. I… I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that! Just let me be angry, okay? I need this.” He’d probably go for a long drive in the rain, try to think this through. Obviously, this was the ‘big thought’ on Vic’s mind, and his best friend was never this open with his thoughts. Not unless they were incredibly important to him. 

Watching Henry leave was one of the biggest heartbreaks he’d ever felt. Vic was trying not to clutch his chest, the pain in it making him close his eyes and just… Stand there, useless. He felt so powerless, so uncertain right now, he didn’t know what to do. The door slammed behind his friend and he just stared, brown eyes unfocused. 

When he got to his car, Henry slammed that door, too, for good measure. Turning over the ignition, he backed out like a bat out of hell, speeding off for some of the quieter back roads, despite the mud. He needed to think, and he was so angry and confused and hurt that he knew he’d need to get some of this out, first. 

If he could find those losers, he could vent out his frustrations. Maybe that new kid. He was fat and stupid and needed to be taught a lesson. All he could think about was the feeling of Vic’s lips on his own, and he absently touched them, hand shaking. That had felt good, and there was something in that feeling that made him feel even more hatred for them both. He’d never been this pissed at Vic before, but was he angry because of the kiss or because of how right it had felt?

Even he had no answer for that. Henry could hear his dad, already, calling him a disgusting fag, going onto that ‘no son of mine’ bullshit, not even covering his hatred. Bile rose in his throat and he was almost positive he would throw up if he slowed down. That made him kick it up another five miles, peeling around a curve and barely keeping control of the car. Slamming the breaks, he gasped softly, a couple hot tears dripping down his damp cheeks.

“What the fuck, Vic…” He finally stated, not even a question in the hot air of the car. Resting his head on the steering wheel, he closed his eyes, breathing heavily and trying to keep it together. Slamming his fist against the wheel, he didn’t even jump at the horn blaring, just still enough to keep his stomach from churning more. What was he going to do with this?


	2. Every Crime Needs A Victim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic needs someone to talk to, and Patrick already knows. Patrick’s attempt to help him might only be stunting his progress with Henry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, already on to chapter two! I’m pretty happy that this is turning out, so we’ll see how quickly I can get through it. Who knows, maybe I’ll just plow through these chapters. xD I never know how it’s going to work out. Here we go!

“So, you told him?” Patrick was toying with his knife, digging it under his nails and spinning it absently, his entire focus on Vic.

“Sort of.” Vic replied, rubbing the back of his neck, shrugging slightly as his other hand fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “I… Kissed him.” 

“You what?” Guffawing, Patrick whooped and shook his head, dropping the knife to his desk and rising off of it, dropping to his feet. “You fucking what? Oh, Jesus, he probably had a hayday with that.” Walking to his uncertain friend, he grabbed his jaw, inspecting the bruise under his eye with an appraising look. “He sure gave you a good wallop, didn’t he?” Just the sight was exciting enough.

“I… Kissed him. Nothing obscene, just a… Little peck on the lips. And yeah, he decked me, called me queer and left.” Vic’s tears weren’t lost on Patrick, but it definitely wasn’t garnering any sympathy. If anything, he was only getting more turned on just seeing them slip down his cheeks, hot enough to burn. The liquid hit his thumb and he felt a thrill shoot down his spine. 

“Well, if he’s not going to reciprocate,” Patrick offered softly, “I could always use a pretty little toy.”

Vic hated that, being called a toy, like he was some doll or other plaything. Patrick had his ways of getting what he wanted, though, he supposed, wincing slightly as the other’s thumb brushed over his bruise. 

“Though I don’t know if I like my doll all bruised up because of some other guy.” Leaning in for a sudden, rough kiss that left Vic bleeding, he breathed in deep through his nose. “I suppose I can let it slide this once, though. As long as you kiss me in obscene ways.”

Vic paused for a second, one hand lifting to his bloody lip and the other shaking slightly at his side. Patrick was going to wreck him, he knew that, but there was something about getting attention that he liked. Pressing his cheek a little more into his friend’s hand, he closed his eyes and nodded softly.

“We can… I mean. I guess…” Henry wasn’t going to accept him, not like this. Vic was pretty sure he had ruined his friendship, so maybe falling into something that would take his mind off of his heartache would be good for him. Not that he thought Patrick was particularly good for anyone. 

Speaking of, he found himself in an almost tender kiss, wincing slightly as the other teen’s tongue lapped at the blood leaking from his upper lip. He hadn’t quite expected to bleed so soon, but at least he had Patrick’s uninterrupted attention, now. The kiss stayed soft and pliable for only a few seconds, before that eager tongue was forced into his mouth. Questing, seeking something, and then apparently Patrick found what he was looking for. Squeezing their bodies together tightly, he held Vic by his rump and kept their hips crushed together. That was a surprise and a half, considering how hard he was already.

If only Vic was feeling it as much as Patrick. It seemed the other had a good idea of how to get him there, though. Picking up his slighter friend, the brunet tossed him onto the bed like he weighed nothing, quick to crawl over him and grind down on him. That got a bit of a rise out of the slighter teen, who moaned softly and tried to hide his face in the pillow.

“Nuh-uh. I want to see you… Hear you as I take you apart.” Patrick growled into his neck, and Vic snapped back to attention as if afraid he’d lose his life if he didn’t. “Good boy.” A gentle hand through his hair was all he got before Patrick’s face was moving away. His grin was unsettling as he unbuttoned and unzipped his friend’s shorts, tugging them roughly down his thighs and then all the way off. Underwear went next, and he practically beamed at Vic’s half hard cock, those eyes intent on Vic’s face. 

For a split second, Vic thought he had died. The swipe of a tongue, hot and wet, over his prick had his eyelids fluttering and they slipped closed by the second. He heard the drawer in Patrick’s bedside table open, his hand fumbling for something, and then it closed. Seconds later, he felt slick fingers sliding down his balls, then his taint, before coming to rest at his entrance.

The yelp that left Vic was enough to leave Patrick’s mind reeling, and he pushed one finger a bit more insistently, watching the other teen squirm. Something about seeing Vic’s pink face, the way he bit his lip, was enough to send another thrill up his spine, making his cock pulse in his pants. Deciding to see just how well Vic would open up for him, he slid a single finger inside, giving a little groan at the tight, warm passage around his finger. He couldn’t even begin to think about how good he’d feel around something a bit bigger, but that could wait, for now. Not skipping a beat, he took Vic back into his mouth, sucking softly at the head while he swirled his digit around inside him.

Vic’s first gut reaction was to silence his moans with his hand, but Patrick’s heavily laden stare kept him frozen in place, save for his wiggling. As the other’s mouth slipped down lower over his cock, he guffawed awkwardly, a heavy moan on his lips as his hips canted up of their own accord. A second finger slipped inside without notice, until Patrick’s fingers curled into something wonderful and Vic gave a loud shout, choked off into a moan that nearly rattled his bones.

Sucking softly, Patrick kept his eyes focused on Vic’s face, on his own hand in his hair, the way he tugged lightly and gagged on another moan. Everything in him wanted to talk, tell him how he could fill him up better than Henry could, make him writhe and moan and cry he felt so good. Thankfully for both of their sakes, Patrick kept his mouth full and continued to bombard Vic with new sensations of pleasure he never could have even dreamed of. The idea that it was him completely undoing the blond only made the moment sweeter. 

“A-ahh-- Fuck-- Ah- H-Henry--” As soon as the name dropped past his lips, Vic’s blood ran cold. Patrick let him suffer for a few seconds, sucking too hard and making him whine, before he pulled off with an obscene pop. 

“It’s okay,” Patrick soothed, petting his protruding hipbone gently, almost reverent, “I don’t mind. You’ll be thinking of no one but me, soon. Henry could never please you like I can.”

The words were harsh, despite his soft tone, and when Vic went to speak, Patrick was back to abusing his prostate and sucking him down all the way. That effectively shut him up, and he gave another choked moan as his head fell back. He was so close already, his balls drawing up tight as he pushed his hips closer, desperation tinting his movements. The coil of arousal in his stomach was only winding tighter, and it made his thighs quiver with its intensity. Maybe Patrick was right; he just needed to let himself be thoroughly taken over and maybe then he’d get over his insane crush on Henry.

“A--ahh, Patrick--” There he went. That was so much better. Hearing his name on Vic’s lips was so much more satisfying, and he gave him a rewarding suck, moving down to press his nose into the other’s pelvis. Slurping loudly, the obscene sounds coming from Patrick’s mouth only helped to make Vic wiggle more. Letting his throat convulse around Vic’s cock, he wasn’t surprised when he felt a hand in his hair, not quite forcing him down but keeping him in place for a little longer regardless. 

With another sharp cry, Vic babbled uselessly, begging and pleading, but most of all, crying out Patrick’s name. Feeling the telltale signs of his impending orgasm had Patrick pulling back regardless, sucking hungrily at the head. It didn’t take more than another twist of his fingers to have Vic pulsing in his mouth, giving him a mouthful of hot spunk. 

Vic laid back, a panting mess, pliant and practically glowing in his brilliance. Patrick pulled back, taking in his disheveled appearance, and feeling pride welling in his chest. _He_ had done this for Vic; _He_ had watched one of the many figments of his mind fall apart under his expertise, and it was _beautiful_. Crawling up the other’s body, he kissed his lips, shoving his tongue, and his mouthful of cum, into the other’s mouth again so he could taste himself. Vic’s pathetic gasp, whine and moan was enough to have him grinning as he pulled back, grinding his prick into the other’s groin once more. Sputtering and trying not to choke on his own load, Vic stared at Patrick with tears in his eyes, an uncertain expression on his face.

The disappointed moan that left him when he heard the phone ring was almost too loud. Pulling back, he stepped over to the phone, trying to keep the roughness out of his voice.

“Hockstetter residence, Patrick speaking.” He paused, grinning a little at who was on the other end. “Yeah? Yeah, I can talk. Nothing’s going on.” Patrick’s eyes narrowed at Vic, who had lifted his head to look at him. Making a shooing gesture with his hand, he turned away, “You want to come over? Yeah, sure. Fifteen minutes out? ...Sounds like a plan, man.” 

Happy to hear his bedroom door closing as Vic slunk out, still reveling in the horror that was his first orgasm with someone else, he smirked.

“No, I’m alone.”

It wasn’t fifteen minutes later when Henry rolled into Patrick’s room like a thundercloud, all pent up energy and malice. Of course, Patrick was prepared for something like that, grinning like a madman when Henry slammed into him. The two grappled and tussled for a few minutes, before Henry was pinned with Patrick on top of him. The leader of the Bowers Gang stared up at him with horrified, wide eyes, and all the slick operator above him could do was grin.

“Don’t worry, Henry.” He said, his voice like wet silk as he leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I won’t tell Vic. He called me up, told me about how you punched him. I’m here to help you work all of that aggression,” His hips rolled to punctuate the word, “Out.”

“Patrick, what--” A harsh kiss left Henry reeling. It didn’t feel right, not like Vic’s kiss had, but he found himself going limp and lifeless beneath his other friend. While his mind was telling him this was wrong, that Patrick shouldn’t be this hard against him, he found the rough slide of the other’s hips against his own to be better than his own hand. Some part of him screamed about Vic, that this was wrong _because_ of these weird feelings he had about him, but the rest of him was focused on sex, instead.

With a weak roll of his hips, Henry consented somewhat to the treatment he was getting. Patrick, however, wasn’t feeling as patient with Henry as he’d been with Vic. His arousal had peaked and he was ready to get down to business. Of course, he wouldn’t outright fuck Henry like he had wanted to Vic, because he had a feeling he’d come out bruised and bloody if he tried. Instead, his hands flew to Henry’s pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them eagerly before working at his own. He pushed their pants and underwear down to their thighs, his hand slick again as he started to tug and stroke his friend’s dick. 

Henry wasn’t near as vocal as Vic had been, and some part of Patrick was displeased with that. Instead of moans and barely concealed shouts, all he got out of Henry were a few grunts and soft, stunted groans. Still, at least he was getting hard. That would make this so much better. As soon as he had the other at half mast, he lost the little shred of patience he had, pressing their hips together again. 

That got a howl out of Henry, whose face was red at this point, embarrassed by his own admission of pleasure. Still, this was better than his own hand, confusing as it was. Patrick wrapped a hand around the two of them, encouraging Henry to thrust if he wanted to. It was an odd angle, but he managed to pump his hips up, closing his eyes when Patrick moved into his line of sight, pressing a kiss to his cheek before moving to whisper in his ear.

“You like that, Henry?” He groaned, rounding his hips once or twice, “Are you imagining Vic instead of me? Wanting his dainty hands on your cock? Feel his twitching as he begs to ride you? Get all nice and comfortable inside his tight little virgin cu--”

Henry cut off anymore of that talk with a hand around Patrick’s throat, which, surprisingly, made the other teen’s hips jerk unexpectedly. Patrick was more fucked up than he thought. 

“Don’t fucking talk just-- J-just keep doing that.” Henry ground out, eyes screwed shut. He didn’t want to think of Vic, but now his mind was stuck on blond hair and brown eyes, looking down at him, watching his own face as he bucked and ground down into him. He imagined Vic would be jerkier, less used to physical contact, needier and louder. For once in his life, he felt his prick leaking on his belly and wished he had that tight ass over his cock instead, milking him, desperate sounds leaking from Vic’s mouth as he rode him. Damn it. Henry was doing more harm than good, only confusing him further.

Still, his hips jerked and bounced as much as he could, the other’s hand moving faster, occasionally letting his thumb smear precum over the head, making it nice and shiny. If he had the patience, he would have edged Henry until he was crying, but right now both of their pleasures were at stake. His own hips were driving at a breakneck pace as he thrust against the other’s thick length, proud to say he was the first person to touch it himself, other than Henry, of course. 

The telltale signs were appearing already, and he was positive that Henry was going to be a quick shot. Still, he couldn’t blame him; this felt insanely good and he was losing his mind over it just the same. As soon as he felt Henry’s prick quivering and, finally, pulsing in his hand as he came across his own belly and Patrick’s hand, Patrick knew he wasn’t far behind. A few more slick slides and he was done, adding to the mess between them.

A bubble of silence worked over the room, save for their labored breathing, and the two waited until the heat of the moment dissipated. Sticky and hot, Patrick separated them, easing back onto his knees and absently licking his hand clean. Henry winced, scrambling away and putting himself back into his pants. Gulping a little, he stared down at Patrick’s flaccid cock with a frown, before finally speaking.

“We never speak of this again.” 

“Naturally.” Patrick didn’t even bat an eye at the vague threat, simply shrugging, “But, if you ever want to do it again…” The open-ended offer made Henry just nod and he shuffled to the door.

“If Vic hears about this--” 

“He won’t. He was just here.” Patrick offered with a shrug, getting up and dropping his pants before tugging off his t-shirt and falling into his bed. “I won’t spill the beans, don’t worry.”

“He was…?” Henry didn’t want to think about that. Maybe he’d just been there to talk. Yeah, that was what he was going to tell himself. “Fuck off, Patrick. I… I’ll see you later.”

With that, Henry was gone, leaving Patrick to his sick games. Now, he really had something to think about. If the thought of Vic taking pleasure from him was enough to make him come so fast, he definitely was in over his head.


	3. It's So Messed Up Either Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple weeks had passed since their romps with Patrick, Vic unloads to Belch, and Belch finds himself in a situation he hadn’t anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Already got chapter three going, wow! I’m really excited for this fic, I hope it’s okay so far. I also hope you guys are enjoying this! I know I’m having fun. Also, feel free to head over to my Bowers Gang Tumblr. It’s Bangbangbowersgang! I take requests for the boys, for fics and headcanons alike. I post a lot there, too, so if you like these boys, it might be fun! ^^

They had been side eyeing each other for the better part of the next two weeks. Henry was getting tired of the predatory, careless way that Patrick undressed Vic with his eyes like he was unwrapping his best Christmas present slow. Vic’s shy glances away, the focusing on minute details to try and hide his shame. Or maybe his desire. 

Henry cursed, throwing the baseball up towards his ceiling again, his free hand traveling back to his lips. It had been exactly seventeen days since Vic had kissed him, not that he was counting, and he could still feel the tingle of the other teen’s lips. Every time he thought about it, he hated himself a little more. He could still hear his dad’s voice in his head, rumbling loudly about how it was wrong, about how hating himself was the only way to get over this disgusting thought.

Catching the ball again, he rolled over, cradling it to his chest and lying halfway on his stomach. A heavy sigh left him, and he dropped the ball to punch his mattress. 

“Fuck!” He growled, glaring at the floor and letting his baseball fall to the floor with a soft thump. Maybe he could try, again, to sleep this off. It wasn’t like staying awake and thinking about Vic was helping him out any more. If this didn’t work, and he was starting to think that it wouldn’t, maybe some one-on-one time with his best friend would do them both some good. Anything to avoid Patrick’s constant lewd remarks; directed at him, or otherwise.

Closing his eyes, all he could see was Vic leaning in close. Why hadn’t he moved? Why hadn’t he done _anything_ at all? Why did his incredibly pretty-- No. Why did his _best friend_ think that this was okay? Why did Vic have to go and turn his entire world on its side?

Grunting in frustration, he jerked up onto his knees, glancing at the half-naked woman posing on the poster above his headboard. Her pale skin stretched for years, long legs and a thin, sinewy body. Pretty brown eyes, short blonde hair cropped around her cheekbones, her plump lips, it… Was too much like staring at Vic. Squeezing his eyes shut until it hurt, Henry groaned and fell back onto his face in the pillow. 

“Fuck.”

\-------

“I don’t know who else I can talk to.” Vic was saying around the can of shitty PBR beer in his hands. He was holding it more than drinking it, staring at the hole that lead to the less than tasty beverage and sighing heavily. 

“You can always talk to anyone.” Belch replied with a shrug, throwing another stone at a tree and delighting in a bit of bark flying off, “I guess it just matters who will listen.”

“You usually listen to me.” Vic replied, even if he was putting together an argument that he should _always_ listen. “Anyway… I… I think Henry hates me.”

“No way.” Rising from the dirt and planting himself beside Vic on the fallen log he’d chosen as a seat, the larger teen shrugged, “I don’t think you could do anything to make him hate you.”

“...I… I kissed him.” The admission was quiet, followed by a long pull from his can, and the blond set it down seconds later to chuck another stone into the woods around them. Anything to ignore the sputtering from the teen at his side.

“You… You kissed him.” It wasn’t even a question, but an astonished statement as Belch stared, incredulous. For a long moment, Vic expected to get punched again, but only his eyelids twitched when his friend finally moved to put a meaty hand on his shoulder. “I bet he doesn’t hate you. You know Henry, he probably didn’t even know that was an option.”

Nevermind the fact that his own crush was just sitting there, opening up the idea in his head that yeah, maybe this was okay. Vic was a smart kid, the smartest of the four of them, and that definitely meant that if he was feeling this way, that maybe it wasn’t as wrong as everyone thought it was. Belch would go so far as to say Vic was the smartest person in town, he was a good student despite everything, he always managed to help make their worries and aggressions make sense. Though, maybe it would be another time, or another place, before he could admit his own feelings. Vic liked Henry, obviously, and there wasn’t really anything he could do about it. The heart would want what it wanted, Vic had said that before. Sure, it was about a debauched attempt of Patrick’s to get a girl, but it seemed to apply here, as well.

“-- But I’m pretty sure he hates me.” It was in that moment that Belch realized he’d tuned out most of what Vic had said due to being lost in his own head, and he shook it with a grunt.

“He doesn’t hate you. He’s just… Henry. I keep seeing him glaring daggers at Patrick for some reason. Probably pissed off about what happened with that Hanlon kid.” 

Vic was pretty sure it had nothing to do with Patrick threatening the kid with a knife. Maybe Belch just hadn’t seen the way he smiled like a sleaze at him, or licked his lips, or wiggled his fingers. Every time Vic caught sight of it, his cheeks would heat and he’d find anything else to look at. Sometimes, he’d glance at Henry, but immediately look away. It was wrong. After what he’d done with Patrick, even _looking_ at Henry felt like some kind of offense. 

Picking up a fallen leaf, he examined the golden edges, feeling over it with his fingers before sighing.

“I… Think it’s different. About Patrick.” Vic finally sighed, dropping the leaf and leaning back on his hands. Dizzy already from the drink in his system, he berated himself for what he’d done before they’d even gotten out here. “Patrick and I have… Once, we…” It was hard to say, impossible to admit what they had done in words. “When I told him about Henry, he…” 

“You listen when I say important shit.” Belch finally said, trying to ease some of his friend’s anxiety, “Go on. I’m listening.”

“...Okay, well… It’s just… He… You know. He used his…” Now, he was just embarrassed. “Mouth on me.” The way Vic talked about it didn’t seem healthy. Hell, anything involving Patrick and sex probably was the opposite of good, and Belch’s vision jumped so violently he almost went down.

“He did, did he?” He was positive that his hands were shaking, and he picked up another rock, sending it spiraling into another clump of trees. If only his target had been Patrick’s head. It was one thing to know that he wasn’t what Vic wanted, but to know that Patrick had tried _taking_ from Vic what he wanted to give someone else? It made his blood boil in the worst of ways.

Then, his hazel eyes cut back to Vic, who looked startled and wide-eyed and he had to kick himself. His short temper was going to get the best of him, and he was no stranger to that being a problem for him. Being big and strong was something that got in his way a lot, when it came to his temper. 

“...Look, I won’t say anything to Henry. If Patrick told him, that’s… Not my issue.” Belch tried, though his voice was strained. “But if he’s doing weird shit to you that you don’t like--”

“Belch, calm down. Sit down.” Belch hadn’t even noticed when he’d stood up, but he listened, “It’s okay. What he did was… It was, you know. I… I don’t know.” Vic’s hands were shaking, now, too, and the only way that Belch felt he could help was by taking them in his own.

“It was something he’s going to get punched for, that’s what it was.” There was an odd look in Belch’s eyes, and Vic smiled at him slightly. The larger teen wasn’t really the type to get violent, not without cause, and the thought that his loyalty was to Vic, and likely Henry, was enough to have him scooting closer. Pressing his cheek to Belches shoulder, he sighed a little. 

“He’s going to slit all of our necks the second he finds out that you know. I haven’t told anyone.” Not until Belch, at least. 

“He can fucking try.” Belch responded, petting the other’s hair a couple times before the moment was broken and Vic lifted his head. 

“A-anyway, I… What should I do about Henry?” Now, his voice was quiet, and Belch knew that any chance he had to say something about his feelings was null and void. In some part of his mind, he knew that he wouldn’t lose Henry over Vic. They were close friends, regardless. Vic was his friend, too, and he needed that more right now than anything else. 

“Talk to him.”

“Henry doesn’t talk.” All of this thinking was getting to him, and Vic found himself wobbling a little, pushing slightly closer to Belch. After all, he was a wall of muscle and trust in a way nobody else in town could have been.

“Then let him listen.” Belch’s hand clapped against Vic’s thigh, and he rubbed almost from hip to knee with an encouraging, soft smile. “Henry’s shit with words, but you’re the only one out of us who’s any good at them.” 

A crooked half smile worked onto Vic’s lips and he laughed softly, shaking his head.

“Henry won’t listen if he doesn’t want to.”

“He always listens to you. Maybe he doesn’t know why… But if you aren’t by him, then he doesn’t really want anyone beside him. I don’t think he hates you, man. There’s no way. You’re like his right arm.”

Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was Belch’s words, coming from his heart, but Vic brushed his own hair off of his forehead before leaning in. A giggle left him as their lips met, and he pressed their foreheads together seconds later. It was obvious Vic wasn’t feeling it as much as he was, but he was smiling, and that was good enough.

“I’ll drive you home.” Belch decided, “You’re giggling already, which means you’ll probably fall off the quarry and drown.” 

“The quarry isn’t even in the same direction as my house.” Half of that sentence was shrouded in laughter, the other half broken with his voice jumping.

“I know.” But it wouldn’t be the first time a drunk Vic had found himself in an unsavory situation because someone had let him try and get home alone while drunk. “I’m going to drive you home, put you to bed. You can talk to Henry when you wake up.” Carefully keeping an arm around Vic’s waist, he tried to think back to when the other had finished off the rest of his beer. It usually took two or three to get the blond this messed up, which probably meant that he’d had a can or so before Belch had arrived. Vic was too cute like this, and Belch felt this was just the time to indulge in such a thought.

Bending, one arm caught the backs of Vic’s knees and lifted him, the blond yelping and clinging to Belch’s meaty neck.

“W-woah, what the fuck, man?” That laughter was in his ear again as Vic tried to work himself into a comfortable position, his chest pressing against Belch’s cheek for a moment before he flopped back in the same way he’d been caught. 

“You can’t be trusted not to wander off.” Belch replied with a little roll of his eyes, “Last time we asked you to go back to the car drunk we found you naked by the Barrens.” Patrick had eaten the sight right up, too, and Belch felt his fist clench against his crush’s thigh. 

“I’m _not_ drunk.” Vic responded, before giggling again, his face split in a wide grin that made Belch, for the first time in his life, jealous of Henry Bowers. Vic couldn’t lie very well when he was sloshed, which happened fairly quickly any time he wanted to drink at all. Which meant, likely, that his whole thing with Patrick and Henry was not a lie. 

“You are _so_ drunk. You’re lucky that I’m the one taking you home.” Patrick would have been all over him, probably had him naked in the Barrens again all by himself. Though some part of Belch was sure that if Henry knew about that, he’d be down for teaching their friend a lesson. Vic was important, even if he was the odd one out most of the time.

By the time they had arrived a Belch’s car, Victor was half asleep, half a giggling mess in Belch’s arms, wiggly and absently chanting something about getting to sit shotgun. Of _course_ he’d be excited to sit in what was mostly dubbed Henry’s seat. It always amazed Belch just how much of a lightweight Vic was. He probably was the worst out of the four of them. Carefully laying the blond out in their leader’s seat, he pressed a half-empty bottle of water into his hand.

“Drink, and I’ll even drive you by his place.” The thought seemed to delight the half-present blond enough that he unscrewed the cap and gulped down the rest of whoever’s water bottle that had been, tossing it over his shoulder into what would have been Patrick, if they weren’t alone. Allowing Belch to buckle him in, Vic pecked his cheek again and Belch wasn’t sure whether he should smile or frown. After all, he wasn’t the one that Vic wanted. He probably was far from the one he needed. But that self indulgent urge came back and he crushed his lips to his blond friend’s for a long minute, keeping them pressed together until he thought that he could move without shattering. 

Before he’d even gotten to the driver’s seat, Vic had curled up against the closed door and fallen asleep. Just like he’d promised, Belch would drive them past Henry’s, if only because there was no other way back to Vic’s house from the woods. It just seemed Vic would miss out.

\---

Growling a little, Henry pulled his pillow up over his head. No matter what he did, how he laid out, everything felt too warm. His skin pricked and felt too sensitive and like nothing all at once, and he was getting angry again. Vic was edging into his thoughts more and more as he rolled and tossed about, and it was only making him flail more as he heard what could only be Belch’s car roaring out of the woods. Throwing off his tangled covers and climbing onto his knees, Henry crawled to the edge of the bed and peered out the window. When he saw that, yes, indeed, the blue beauty was peeling down the road, he practically leaned out of the window until he fell on his face in the weeds outside. 

There was no honk to show that he’d been seen, only the slowing of the car as it pulled up along the mailbox. Henry took off running from his bedroom window, nearly face planting but managing to keep somewhat upright until he got to the safety of the parked car. Belch was the one to get out, and after a moment, Henry ducked down to lock blue-green eyes on the sleeping blond curled into his seat.

“How can he be asleep right now?” Throwing an unhappy glare at the reds, purples and pinks of the sunset, Henry crossed his arms. If he could sleep half as deep as Vic was right now, then maybe he would be able to put thinking about the blond off for another day.

“We had beer.” Belch informed, rounding the car and pausing by the passenger’s headlight, eyes going a little wide. Henry had wrenched the door open and leaned down, his nose not even an inch away from Vic’s. Stomach twisting, Belch looked away, not quite wanting to see what the shifting he could hear meant. 

“Vic.” Henry’s voice was soft, surprisingly, if not edged in the blade of a knife, “Vic, wake up--” Surprised by an uncoordinated hand that meant to lightly pat his face instead slapping him, he had been about to shout, or say something, _anything_ disparaging, when he found himself shocked speechless. 

Once more, every fiber of his being short circuited and for a second, Henry didn’t know what to do. His hands fisted at his sides, but he refrained from hitting the drunk before him. The kiss was long over by the time he pulled back and just growled, hands on his hips. Vic’s enamoured staring was only vexing him further, and Henry found himself perched on the hood with his head in his hands before he’d thought he’d blinked.

“Will you help me get him home?” Belch finally asked, leaning his hip against the car, following Henry’s dead stare into the woods across from his house. It took the pair of them a solid five minutes to make eye contact again, and when they did, Henry’s scowl had lessened. It seemed he had seen something in his friend, friends, maybe, that had cracked something in his head. Or, at least, it was opening up a conversation.

“Yeah, if you think you can get him out of my seat.” Laughing softly, Henry shook his head a little and hopped down, crossing back to the passenger’s seat to find Vic happily curled up on his side. He would definitely do better to lay down in the back seat. 

“Vic.” Belch appeared seemingly from nowhere, lightly shaking his shoulder. “Hey, we’re going to move you, okay?” The blond didn’t even move, not until he was shifted. Belch pulled him out, tipping his head for Henry to put the seat forward so he could lay the snuggly drunk in his arms out on the back seat. Vic placed an unseen kiss on his neck that colored the larger teen’s cheeks, and as he settled him back against the seat, the smaller male was almost immediately asleep again.

Standing back and rubbing his neck, Belch threw a cautionary glance at Henry’s house, and the other teen rolled his eyes.

“He’s working. Don’t worry.”

Falling into his seat, Henry pulled his knife from his pocket and absently pushed the blade up and down a few times while Belch rounded the car and climbed in. Holding onto the wheel and tapping it a few times, he finally kicked the car back into motion and they started down the road towards Vic’s house in silence.

“...You know he likes you, don’t you?” Belch finally asked, eyes on the road. 

“Of course he does, he’s my best--”

“Don’t give me that. You know what I mean.” That was probably the first time Henry could recall Belch ever getting short with him, and it had him raising an eyebrow, looking over at his friend who wouldn’t meet his eyes. “He’s head over heels for you.”

“W-wait, you-- No way. There’s no fucking way.” Henry shook his head so hard it spun for a second, and he slumped down in his seat a little, arms crossed over his chest. “Vic’s my best friend. There’s no way he thinks of me like that.”

“He kissed you, didn’t he?” Belch sounded exasperated, and it was such an odd occurrence that Henry turned to look at him, brows drawn in and frown firm on his lips.

“Who--”

“He did. When he was drinking. He’s afraid you hate him.”

“I don’t-- How could I--” Everything that he was trying to express kept coming out so gay sounding in his head that Henry snapped his jaw shut so hard they both heard his teeth click. After a moment of silence, he sighed heavily through his nose. “I don’t hate him. I just… Don’t know what I’m feeling.”

“If only we could talk to Vic about it.” Belch murmured. Vic knew more about emotions than any of them. Had it been anyone else, they both would have gone to him for help. But it was hard to feel out your head with the person that twisted it around like that.

“Yeah.” Henry laughed softly, agreeing wholeheartedly. Had Patrick kissed him, he probably would have been at Vic’s in record time. And then it hit him. Patrick. “...This whole thing is so fucked up, man. I mean… Vic’s pretty, and my dad keeps calling him all kinds of things. But… I never thought he was actually a queer.”

“Shut up.” Belch almost groaned, grip tightening on the steering wheel, “He’s not queer, he’s just… Better than this place.”

Henry’s eyebrows scrunched up again and he paused, eyeing his friend for a moment.

“...You like him, don’t you?”

“Shut _up_. It doesn’t matter! He likes you, and I swear I’ll break your face if you break his heart.” Now, the larger teen was almost growling and, had he not been driving, he would have crossed his arms. “If you don’t like him, break it to him gentle. I’m not about to let you rip him a new one.”

“I’m not going to-- I don’t know. I don’t think I’m gonna break his heart.” Rose blossomed on Henry’s cheeks and he looked away, staring out the window as they pulled down the street to Vic’s house, “I… I can’t get him and… And kissing him out of my head. It’s bad.” His dad was going to more than have his ass for this. He’d be the next hunting trophy in the den. 

“...So… You like him, too?” Belch almost sounded relieved, but definitely a little jealous. 

“I don’t know. This whole fucking mess is…” Henry rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, huffing, “I guess? I mean… He’s not bad looking. For a dude. And his lips are…”

“Soft.” Belch supplied, pulling into the driveway of Vic’s house and glancing warily into the back seat.

“...Yeah.” Eyeing Belch again, Henry pursed his lips before sighing. “I guess we can go put him to bed.”

“I think you should stay. With him.” Because it would do no good for Belch to get any closer to Vic. It would only end in heartbreak.

“I’ll stay with him if you do.” Henry finally admitted softly, “His bed’s big enough for all of us.” That sounded way more gay than he wanted to admit to, but right now that was okay. Belch nodded and cut the ignition, and both teens got out of the car almost at the same time. Henry put his seat forward again, and ducked inside to grab at Vic, who seemed thoroughly out, at this point.

“God, he’s such a lightweight.” In both the physical and metaphorical sense, he supposed. Lifting Vic was like lifting bird bones; he was full of air and not much else. Carefully backing out with a body in his arms, Henry glanced over at Belch, who was pocketing his keys and rounded the back of the car.

“Need me to take him?”

“I got him. Meatball weighs more than he does.” Henry was lucky for his precious cargo, or he likely would have gotten punched.

“Leave Meatball out of this, okay? He’s still recovering from Patrick trying to run his tail over with his bike.” At least the poor Maine Coon was doing better, now.

“Okay, okay, whatever.” As the pair came up on the front door, Belch let them in and they made a beeline for Vic’s room, managing to sidestep his parents, even if just barely. Laying Vic down in bed was harder than it should have been. He didn’t seem to want to leave Henry’s warmth, and this proved to be his ultimate undoing.

“What do I do?” He questioned softly, Vic’s arm looped around his neck, aquamarine eyes on Belch.

“Just lay with him, I’ll help get your shoes off.” Belch finally sighed, shaking his head, “Then I’ll help get him out of his pants.”

“W-what? Why?” For a quick second, Henry looked panicked, before a sigh of relief left him at Belch’s explanation.

“So he doesn’t get hurt. He wears his belt so tight sometimes it leaves welts.” 

Not that Henry really wanted to know why Belch knew that, but he was morbidly curious at the same time. Laying down with his blond friend, Henry allowed the other teen to get his boots off, then Vic’s, before shucking his own. Getting Vic out of his pants was probably too easy, his belt undone and the fabric quickly pulled down over his feet. With the small blond laid out before him in all of his pale, skinny glory, Belch tried to keep his whistle to himself. Crawling into bed and watching Henry scoot up against the wall, the largest teen wrapped an arm around Vic’s middle.

“Well?” He finally questioned, raising a brow at Henry. Looking at Belch in return, he finally sighed a little, absently drawing a leg up against Vic’s hip and closing his eyes as he held the other close. Nestled in between Belch and Henry, Vic blinked slightly, unable to keep his eyes open despite the desire to. Warm and feeling oddly safe, he was back in dreamland in a second’s notice, practically buzzing with joy.


	4. Everybody Loves A Roller Coaster Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic wakes up hungover and way too warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, guys, I’m super stoked to say we’re already at chapter four! ; u; I don’t recall ever getting through a chapter fic this fast before, and I owe it all to my boys. *blows kisses for them* They are all so important to me and I just. Love them. I hope you guys enjoy!

Rolling his thick, pungent tongue in his mouth for the fifth time in so many minutes, Victor realized with a dull throb in the front of his skull that he was, regrettably, awake. It was still dark, and a glance at the glaring red numbers on the clock across from the bed told him it was five thirty in the morning. There was an odd heaviness in his limbs and against his chest, and he closed his eyes. For a moment, he was certain that this was what death felt like.

And then he recognized the soft patterns of breath against his ear and shoulder, and he blinked his eyes open again to stare at the ceiling above him. The weights were familiar, Belch on his left against the wall and Henry on the right, pressed in close to avoid falling over the edge. Absently rolling over to let Belch spoon his back, Vic snagged Henry’s waist and tugged him in close. Every part of him wanted to kiss him awake, but he didn’t remember much of last night, and if Henry was here with them, he had no idea what had happened. 

If nothing else, Henry didn’t hate him enough to have evacuated the second he’d passed out. This was definitely his room, with its uniform cleanliness and full size bed. Hopefully he didn’t do anything _too_ weird.

Now, the question of the hour was how he was supposed to get out of bed and go to the bathroom. Henry wasn’t moving, which meant he was probably comfortable now that he had more space, and Belch was known for holding on to anything in bed with him like it was the last thing keeping him afloat. Any other time, he would have been happy to stay in bed and luxuriate in the warmth they created for him, but he had an increasingly pressing matter to contend with.

Testing his rather heavy bonds, Victor wiggled a little, only getting Belch’s arm around his middle to tighten. Squeezing his eyes shut, he took a deep breath to steady himself before finally going for the gold. Attempting to sit up was proving to be more difficult than he’d thought. The room spun around him, and he felt a lurch in his stomach, which finally spurred him into motion. Scrambling over Henry and not bothering to try and tuck him back in with Belch, he made a beeline for the bathroom and only just made it to the toilet before falling against the cool porcelain. He didn’t remember eating anything the night before, and he swore, for not the first time, that he would never drink again. Beer tasted like shit going down, but it was that much worse coming up with bile.

When the pounding behind his eyes finally died down, and the retching seemed to be under control, he wiped his face with some toilet paper and stood up. Finally able to take care of his insistent bladder, he sighed a little as he buried himself in the relief it offered him. 

Trying to put together what had happened after the last thing he remembered, Vic found himself with a big hole in his memory. He remembered throwing rocks at trees with Belch. Some of the conversation about him liking Henry was there, sitting in the back of his mind. But, most of all, he remembered kissing Belch. 

Flushing and turning to the sink to brush his teeth and wash his hands, he had to wonder just what would come from all of this. Patrick’s side of the whole deal was obvious to him; he was capitalizing on the fact that Vic was sure he would never get to be with Henry. The one thing about Patrick was that this was almost expected. He was eccentric and hard to predict for most people, but his friends knew him so intimately that his thoughts weren’t so foreign to them.

Belch and Henry, however, were totally out of left field. Two weeks ago, he’d been decked for kissing Henry. This morning, he woke up tangled with him. Belch had let him kiss him yesterday, and he’d also been a warm blanket to him.

Spitting in the sink, he swished some water and spat that, too, before starting on the mouthwash. The overwhelming urge to slink back to bed and slide back into place was killing him, and he knew that he wanted to do it more than anything. If he couldn’t really have their love, he could take whatever scraps they’d give him.

That sounded so pathetic, even in his own head, and as he finished off in the bathroom and turned out the light, he pondered just how fucked he was.

Plunged back into darkness, he padded to his bedroom door and let himself in, pausing to look at his sleeping friends. Except they weren’t sleeping anymore. Henry had taken a knee to the stomach in Vic’s mad dash to the bathroom, and Belch was saying something softly to him, as if afraid his voice might break the entire house with its usual loud brashness.

Both sets of eyes turned on him and Vic rubbed the back of his neck. For a long moment, they sat in silence as he crossed the room and slipped back onto the foot of his bed, and all he could think to say was kind of stupid.

“I brushed my teeth.” 

“Good for you.” Henry replied with a roll of his eyes evident in his voice. Vic didn’t need the light from the streetlamp outside his window to see just how much of a stupid statement that had been.

“How are you feeling?” Belch asked, his voice barely a whisper in the deafening silence of the room.

“Like I was run over by a Mack truck.” Vic responded easily, pulling his knees to his chest. A sudden urge to hold him hit Henry, but their usual amount of cuddling almost seemed weird, now. Did Vic even like being manhandled half as much as he let them? Despite this thought, he hated seeing his best friend looking quite so small and fragile. Not only did it feel wrong to let it happen, but it was doing funny things to his chest.

Belch, thankfully, was the first to move, slipping forward with an odd grace to his movements to collect Vic in his arms and pull him into his lap. A kiss to the top of his head shocked the blond a little and he looked up, a warm smile on the larger teen’s lips.

“I don’t think I want to go to school today.” Vic finally admitted quietly, resting his head on Belch’s chest and closing his eyes. “There’s hardly any light in here and it’s too bright.”

“Just wait until the sun comes up.” Henry murmured, aiming for disinterested and missing the mark entirely. 

“Oh God, don’t even say that word.” The blond groaned, burying his face in Belch’s neck and earning a glare from Henry.

“We could stay with you today, if you want?” The largest boy offered, and Vic looked up.

“We?”

“Henry and me.” He corrected, “Maybe Patrick, but we’d have to call him.”

“Not Patrick.” Henry snapped, “If I have to watch him make goo goo eyes at Vic one more fucking time…” The possessive growl that left him shocked all three of the bed’s inhabitants, and Vic’s head popped up.

“Goo goo eyes?” At first, he almost seemed shocked, but it gave way to a shyness Henry had never seen before, “You noticed that?”

“It’s impossible not to notice!” Even Belch had to make a ‘stop’ gesture with his hands with just how loud Henry had gotten, and he ducked his head in shame. “He doesn’t fucking stop and I want to punch him every time.”

“But you don’t because he makes it weird, right?” Belch questioned, almost hopeful for the answer that would settle his own feelings about punching Patrick.

“That and other reasons.” Henry admitted with a little sigh. Wringing his hands, he moved to lay back down and patted the bed beside him, “Vic, come here.”

Following the order like he had no other choice, he spooned up against his friend’s side. Belch slid in behind him, wrapping an arm around his middle and closed his eyes, sighing softly at the right scent of apples and spice from Vic’s shampoo. 

“What the fuck is happening to us?” Henry finally questioned, staring at the ceiling. 

“Puberty?” Belch guessed with a soft huff of a laugh, only getting a shake of Henry’s head.

“Two weeks ago, everything was perfect… And now we’re just…” He made an odd gesture with his hands that didn’t really mean anything and sighed again. “I don’t want to lose you guys.”

“We aren’t going anywhere.” Vic supplied, closing his eyes and focusing on the sound of Henry breathing underneath his ear. 

“But what if we…” There was no safe way to finish that question, so Henry sat on it and kept it to himself.

For a long time, the three of them lay in silence in the dark, Vic and Belch finding sleep once more as Henry lay awake, wondering if his life would ever be normal again.

**Author's Note:**

> Woo boy, here we go. Getting into it, now, aren’t we? I hope this goes well, I’m really into this, now. Hope to see you guys in the next part!


End file.
